


Distraction

by sans_carte



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Mild Smut, Nipples, as in Good Earth Cleavage (TM)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 06:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_carte/pseuds/sans_carte
Summary: Lexa gets...distracted by certain parts of Clarke's anatomy during a meeting with the ambassadors.For Day 4 of Clexaweek 2019, prompt: Nipples.





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same AU as my Four Seasons fics, which diverges from canon after 3x07; we're pretending you-know-what never happened. Un-beta’ed.

It gets cold in the tower.  Despite efforts to patch and rebuild it, much of the structure is still open to the air.  Lexa does not usually notice herself; natblida training includes wintertime hunts and missions in the forest, which inured her to all but the worst weather.  But this morning in the throne room, she curses herself for not realizing that Clarke and her people might not be used to this kind of cold after the artificial, closed environment of their skyborne home.

It’s distracting Lexa, making her snappish in an already tense meeting with the coalition ambassadors.  Because the proof of Clarke’s chill is...hard to ignore. The shirt Clarke is wearing, one of her older Skaikru garments, is rather tight, and there are two _points_ visible in it where it stretches the most.

Lexa forces her glance away from the girl, swallowing hard, and tries to marshal her thoughts.  Sankru is concerned about the drought in their region, and their ambassador is seeking extra deliveries of grain for their people and hay for their roaming herds of livestock.  Right.

“But you have not offered anything in return,” she reminds the ambassador sharply. “Nor has your clan contributed any warriors to the two most recent missions to protect the borders of the Coalition against raiders.”

The man blusters a response that she half-listens to, while resisting the temptation to look back at Clarke.  And...certain parts of her.

“Driya,” Lexa calls out suddenly, interrupting the man’s pointless excuses.  A young woman with her hair covered steps from the shadows at the edges of the room and awaits her order.

“Stoke the fire and add more wood,” Lexa commands in Trigedasleng.  “It grows cold.”

“ _Sha, Heda_.”  The woman obeys.

The room warms quickly, as Lexa questions the Sankru ambassador and avoids looking anywhere near the Skaikru girl.  But she can’t ignore Clarke when she starts speaking herself.

“What if Sankru dedicates a greater portion of their herd to be delivered to their neighbors in the spring?” The blonde elaborates on her idea, and because it’s _her_ , it’s a smart, strategic compromise that all parties will likely agree to in the end, without any bloodshed...but Lexa can barely focus on her words after Clarke crosses her arms, pushing those tantalizing peaks up and even tighter against the fabric of her shirt.  Lexa remembers the night before, the way Clarke had gasped and arched beneath her when she--

“ _Heda_?”

Everyone is looking at her, Clarke with amusement and a spark of something else in her eyes.  Lexa clears her face of any expression and looks into the distance, as if she’s contemplating the idea deeply.

“It seems like a wise proposal,” she declares.  “Sankru, I am sure you will wish to negotiate the details with your neighboring ambassadors.  We will take a break and reconvene in an hour to hear your final agreement.” When she stands, so does the rest of the Council, and everyone begins to file out of the chamber.  Everyone except for Clarke, who lingers.

She must have something to discuss privately...Lexa recalls she had just received a radio report from her people that morning.  Lexa steps down from the dais and moves towards her, keeping her gaze resolutely fixed on Clarke’s face.

***

As the last ambassador leaves the throne room, leaving Lexa and Clarke alone, Clarke relaxes her posture a little.  “So, why did you _really_ call for a break?” She had noticed Lexa’s distraction and irritation, and wondered if she had another motive behind the order.

“So you could go and change into warmer clothing,” Lexa tells her.  “I know your people are not used to the winter here.”

Clarke is confused.  “But I’m not cold.”

“Then why are your--” Lexa drops her glance to Clarke’s chest, and a blush creeps onto the Commander’s cheeks.

Clarke understands, and laughs aloud.  “You stopped a meeting of ambassadors because you noticed my nipples showing? Seriously?”

“I did not want you to suffer from the cold,” Lexa says stiffly, but her blush grows.  It makes Clarke grin, and she takes a few steps forward, slow and with a hint of sway in her hips.

“You were distracted,” Clarke teases.  “The great Commander of the Coalition couldn’t keep her eyes to herself.”  Another step.

Lexa gulps.  Barely an arm’s length of space separates them now.

“You wanna know why my nipples got hard, Lexa?” Clarke’s voice has gone husky and low enough that no one could possibly hear her beyond the throne room.  But it isn’t enough.

She closes the space between them and speaks right into Lexa’s ear, feeling the girl shiver.  “Because I was watching you tear down those ambassadors’ arguments and it turned me on. Because I was remembering how you felt last night, in bed with me, on top of me--” she inhales sharply as a fresh wave of memory arouses her, “--and I couldn’t wait to touch you again.”

Lexa surges against her, claiming Clarke’s mouth.  With warrior’s speed she pushes her forward and up against the nearest wall.  

Clarke pushes back against her just as fiercely, tongue flickering across Lexa’s lips, dipping into her mouth.  She swallows a groan--Lexa’s or hers, who knows--as the commander slides a thigh between hers, pushes the hem of her shirt up.  She tugs Lexa closer but then hisses.

“Your fingers are freezing!” Lexa’s hands pause where they’d slipped up her sides, lifting her shirt and bra to skim the underside of her breasts.

“ _Moba_ ,” Lexa mumbles.  Her mouth presses warm, wet kisses down Clarke’s neck and replaces her fingers.  She runs her tongue around the firm point of one nipple, then the other, and Clarke tips her head back against the wall, cursing.

“Maybe you ought to—warm them up,” she pants.  She can barely piece together a sentence, Lexa’s mouth feels so good on her.

She catches a flash of wild green eyes glancing up at her, before Lexa applies suction and Clarke’s eyes flutter shut.  Cold hands slip around her waist, leaving goosebumps trailing behind them. They slide beneath her belt to squeeze her ass, rocking her against Lexa’s thigh.  Clarke gasps.

“I knew...wearing this shirt-- _fuck_ , Lexa--was a good idea," she admits.

Lexa makes a noise that’s halfway between a growl and a laugh.  “You wore this on purpose to distract me,” she says between kissing and nibbling across Clarke’s breasts, pushing the shirt farther up with her nose, “from serious diplomatic meetings.”

“ _Beja, Heda_ ,” Clarke groans out.  Her speaking Trigedasleng turns Lexa on just as much as certain garments of hers, she has discovered.  “I’ll make it up to you, just please--”

She doesn’t need to say anything else.  Lexa presses against her, touches her perfectly, kisses her again and again, and for a little while the heat between them could warm the entire tower.


End file.
